


Take Aim and Reload

by anna_sun



Series: bury them side by side [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Bonnie & Clyde, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Angst, Angst and Fluff, Blood and Violence, Blowjobs, Dirty Talk, Humor, Kind of? sometimes, M/M, Minor Character Death, Outside Sex, Robbery, Sex, Violence, all bout the money, being turned on by Flint lmao, being turned on by guns, but its all for good fun!, definitely not mentally sane characters, gun practice, gun use, handjobs, it's all really intense, they love each other okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 04:35:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12403191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_sun/pseuds/anna_sun
Summary: "Let’s never go back," he said, so suddenly that Flint stopped the car right there in the middle of the open road."What?""Fuck that town, and fuck that way of life. I’m tired of busting my ass for scrap change. ‘Been this way my entire fucking life, ever since my folks went and died on me." Silver gave a shy smile. "Frankly, your way seems like much more fun."//AKA the Silverflint Bonnie & Clyde AU everybody secretly wished for.





	Take Aim and Reload

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Ed Sheeran's ''Don't'' 
> 
> Sometimes you have writer's block for like two weeks and then write something like this in one single afternoon. 
> 
> You don't actually need to know anything about Bonnie and Clyde to understand this. It gets kind of violent and fucked up but I imagine that if you watch Black Sails, it shouldn't be a problem. 
> 
> However: Read the tags carefully! And enjoy!

Silver hated Dallas with a passion, a burning-hot hatred that ran deep in his guts, almost as unbearable as the sun striking down on the town most days. Sometimes, he thought the heat would render him mad. It was even worse when the sun rays radiated off the damned cement onto his already tan skin, but he had no choice but to stand there, taking careless drags of his cigarette with his apron tied around his waist, still stained with cloud-like patches of flour. 

He hated his job, too, of course. Sometimes, when no one was looking, he’d spit in the soup, strictly out of spite for the old fucks that thought they were entitled to treating him like shit, just because he worked behind a counter for minimal wage when _they_ apparently really contributed to society, or whatever. Fuck them, truly – they could eat his shit for all he cared.

He was halfway done with the cigarette, still five minutes left to his break, when a man passing by caught his attention. Perhaps it was Silver’s special interest for gingers, or the way he walked like the whole street belonged to him, but Silver watched, rather curiously, as the man bumped into some stranger, harsher than probably necessary. The event would have been mundane at best, if only Silver hadn’t caught the glimpse of the ginger’s hand, sneaking its way into the stranger’s back pocket, and coming out with a familiar-looking black square of leather.

"Apologies," Ginger said, sounding surprisingly genuine, and Silver smiled. The stranger simply gave a grunt and continued on his way, and only when he was out of sight did the thief look inside the wallet, retrieving a good handful of bills out of it.

"That’s nice," Silver couldn’t help but call out, exhaling a breath of smoke. "Honestly, I’m impressed. Can you make a living out of it?"

The man’s head almost snapped from its own neck so fast he turned to look at him. There was a moment of confusion where he didn’t know if he was really being talked to – but Silver stared at him dead-on, smiled when their eyes met, and gave a nod of his head towards his hand, still full of cash. The man had the sense to quickly stuff it all deep inside his jeans pocket, before he walked towards him, steps falling heavy on the concrete.

"Beg your pardon?"

"That trick you just pulled," Silver said, not missing the glint of fear that sparked in the man’s gaze. "You’re lucky I ain’t no cop, or good civilian."

The man’s furrowed brows slowly soothed themselves and the thin line of his lips stretched into a smirk. "Yeah?"

Silver laughed, threw the remnants of his cigarette onto the ground and stepped on it. He knew his breath still smelled like smoke, that his face was forever greasy and that his lips felt dry from dehydration, but he couldn’t help himself.

"You should come in," he said, pointing his left thumb towards the shitty restaurant behind him. "Eat something. Give me a good tip."

He pulled the best seductive smile he could manage, not really knowing if it was wasted on the man. These things were usually hit or miss – and, well, surely enough this one looked like a possible hit, what with the way Mister Thief’s gaze quickly ran up and down the entire length of Silver’s body, with little to no real attempt at subtlety. 

When he gave no other answer Silver simply shrugged, and had the sudden boldness to wink at the man, before he made his way towards the backdoor. He didn’t look back to see if Ginger was gone or about to come inside the building as well, but not so long afterwards, he got an order for the Chef’s special, and ignored the back-flip his belly made, when as he passed the order he spotted him, seated at the counter, sipping a cup of black coffee and eyeing him through the large open window that separated the dining area from the kitchen.

When Billy took over near three o’ clock, at the end of Silver’s shift, the man was gone, but Eleanor came to him with a twenty-dollar bill in her hand, and a curious look in her gaze.

"A client told me this was tip for the cook," she said, handing it to him. "The ‘ _pretty one’_ he said. _‘With the dark curls and blue eyes."_

Silver laughed, awkwardly, although he imagined it didn’t really work at drifting’s Eleanor attention from the blush that arose high in his cheeks.

"For fuck’s sake," she sighed, shaking her head. "Please don’t go fucking our customers, alright? You know I ain’t really against your… ways, but we already have enough complaints as it is, and I don’t want to be forced to fire you."  

Silver nodded, gave her a thumps-up.

"Of course, El. I won’t."

 

Flint. His name was James Flint.

"Flint," he repeated after him, and Flint looked up at him like he was fucking insane. "I like it. I’m John – Silver. John Silver. Although, just Silver’s fine."

Flint shifted slightly from where he was kneeling on the ground of the alley behind _Nassau_ , the restaurant Silver worked at. Silver’s pants were unzipped and his cock was hard but Flint hadn’t had the time to take it out before Silver had suddenly stopped him and insisted on knowing his name, first.

Much to his delight, about a week after their first meeting, Flint had come back to eat during one of Silver’s shifts, this time much later during the day. He didn’t leave such a generous tip as before but this time a note, instructing him to meet him there after he was done, were he to be interested in something more.

And, well. There they were.

"Well John, now that we’re done with presentations," Flint sounded more than slightly exasperated. "May I go back to sucking your cock in peace?"

Silver chuckled, let his head fall heavily against the brick wall behind him.

"You know, you’re surprisingly well-spoken for a thief." He commented, and Flint squeezed his hard length through his briefs, way too harshly but undeniably pleasurable, a direct request for him to shut up. Silver barely managed to suppress the moan that threatened to escape out of his lips. "God – Okay, okay, do it. _Fuck_."

 

Turns out Flint wasn’t usually content with only stealing wallets from clueless strangers on the streets. It wasn’t that much of a surprise, really, but Silver found that out when, on a grey Sunday afternoon, Flint came to pick him up in a brand-new Cadillac V16, and Silver couldn’t hide the stupefaction in his tone.

"You _stole_ this?"

Flint laughed; one careless hand on the wheel, the other perched high on Silver’s leg, fingertips like hooks on the inner-side of his thigh.

"It was right there for the taking. What can I say?"

Silver stared.

"How?"

Flint’s eyes drifted to him curiously but they quickly went back to the road, such a responsible driver he was.

"Well, you need to know a thing or two about cars. You know anything about cars?"

Silver knew how to drive, sure, but ultimately – he shook his head no.

"Then there’s no fucking use in explaining it to you," Flint smiled, his grip on his thigh growing tighter for only a second before he released it completely. "Maybe some day I’ll show you."

There was something in the way Flint said it that insinuated for more, in the way he looked at him afterwards, the question marks in his gaze clear to Silver. He knew the question Flint was dying to ask, knew the answer he himself desperately wanted to give, and he looked through the window, at the passing blur of farms, and trees, looked at the car he was sitting in, and at who was driving it. He mindlessly caressed the leather of his seat, took a second to try and steady his heartbeat, and inhaled one deep breath. Through all of this he’d made a decision. He fucking hated Dallas and everything about it; he despised the trees, and the farms, and the people, but somehow, he didn’t hate this.

"Let’s never go back," he said, so suddenly that Flint stopped the car right there in the middle of the open road.

"What?"

"Fuck that town, and fuck that way of life. I’m tired of busting my ass for scrap change. ‘Been this way my entire fucking life, ever since my folks went and died on me." Silver gave a shy smile. "Frankly, your way seems like much more fun."

It took a second for Flint to recollect from the shock, but once he did, he swiftly pressed on the gas pedal again, the sound of the engine roaring to life accompanied by a disbelieving laugh.

"You have no idea what you’re talking about. It isn’t just fun, it’s dangerous. And definitely not easy."

Silver tucked an annoying lock of his hair that was flying in the wind – and across his face – behind his ear, as he laid back slightly to rest his feet up on the dashboard.

"But you know what you’re doing, right? And I’m a fast learner." Flint stared at him some more. "Seriously."

A moment of silence stretched itself between them, where Flint pretended to be concentrated on the road, and Silver stared intensively at the side of his face. God, he could get used to this, he thought, in his haze of excitement at the simple _thought_ of running away with Flint. Could get used to the sight of his jaw, tight and defined and sharp, and his eyelashes, pretty as butterflies’ wings caressing his skin, and his hands, rough and calloused and big, wrapped around the wheel of a thousand stolen cars, wrapped around a pistol, wrapped around him.

"You’d have to prove it to me." Flint finally broke the silence, and Silver knew from the tone of his voice that he just couldn’t have helped but cave in. He smiled big, but Flint remained stone-cold. "Prove yourself to me, that you’re serious about this. That you’re competent."  

"And how do you imagine I do that?"

It was Flint’s turn to smile.

 

They did go back; didn’t drive away from Dallas in the blaze of glory and freedom Silver desperately craved for. At least not right away.

Flint started by showing him how to steal from stores. How to discretely burry small object in his pockets, which usually didn’t return much profit, but still gave Silver a thrill like he’d never had before. He felt like a fucking teenager again, the first time he stepped out the door without having purchased anything, yet in possession of many new, valuable goods. Flint had been waiting for him with his back rested against the hood of a Mercedes-benz, this time, legs and arms crossed, a beam so proud on his lips it had taken every ounce of Silver’s will not to jump him right there and then. He did kiss him without mercy once they got in the car, however, which was risky, but not without its advantages. Flint kissed like a fucking God.

They moved on to the handy little trick Silver had first witnessed from Flint, stealing wallets directly from pockets, and Silver got punched in the face two or three times, sure, but eventually, he could have snatched Flint’s wallet swiftly, without any real trouble.

"You really weren’t kidding, when you said you were a fast learner, huh?" Flint even said once, although it had almost been a month. Silver had been riding his cock (yet another valuable thing he’d learned from him), and he’d made the older man come by bouncing recklessly, giving a choked-out, breathless speech of how they’d both conquer the fucking world together, that nothing would stop them, no one, not ever.

They occasionally stole cars to sell them and steal some again, which was where the biggest profits came from, but was probably the riskier way to do it. Silver only stopped once to think when he found a baby’s well worn-out plushie in one of the backseats, and found himself thinking about the poor kid, about what they’d lost. That’s when Flint came back into his range of vision again, and he threw the sad thing out the window, with barely any second thought.  

He definitely wasn’t the same man he used to be. He could hardly recall a _before_ Flint, at this point. Any other mouth he kissed, any other cock he sucked, they’d become mere spectres of memory in his grand new universe. This one was filled with opportunity, with wonder, with happiness, for once. With something that _meant_ something.

Even though he still made it to work every other day, still served the same shitty people, still avoided Eleanor’s worried glares, he really did start thinking he couldn’t be happier than this. That it couldn’t get any better than this.

"How would you feel about robbing a place?" Flint asked one day, a devilish smirk on his lips, strong and bare thighs straddling Silver’s waist, and that’s when Silver realized he’d been wrong.

It was about to get _so_ much better.

 

"We’d have to run."

"James, I know. It’s what I’ve been fucking waiting for."

"Don’t you have friends? People you care about? You need to be certain about this. I can’t have you ditching me last minute."

"No, I don’t. I won’t. What about you?"

"I don’t, not anymore." A pause. "Only you."

Silver smiled, grabbed Flint’s head with both hands.

"Only you."

 

A flock of birds flew high up in the sky in a piercing, collective shriek when, by Flint’s hand, the first shot was fired. The woods had been ever calm before their arrival, and the beer bottle standing still on top of the tree stump a good couple meters away from them exploded promptly, making Silver give a low whistle of appreciation.

"D’you know how many times I’ve imagined you with a pistol in your hand?" He said, coming up behind him to wrap his arms around Flint’s waist and press his arousal against his ass. He didn’t really know what it was exactly that did it for him, the sheer power Flint radiated, or the danger the weapon represented, but it did it for him nevertheless. He heard Flint stifle in a breath, felt him cant his hips back, but before it arrived to anything he was out of Silver’s reach, facing him and handing him the pistol.

"Your turn."

Silver smiled, gladly taking the weapon from Flint, the heavy weight resting familiarly into the palm of his hand. It was a standard four-inch .38 revolver, the same kind he used to have as a toy when he was but ten years old, pretending to be Cowboys with Max, Jack and Anne. God, it had been so long since he’d seen them; they’d all went off to University somewhere far away from here, so far he’d almost forgotten about them. Now, he distantly wondered what they were up to. If they were still together. If they were happy.

Flint had gone to place an old tin-can of – something, probably beans – where the bottle once had been. As he watched him make his way back, Silver wasn’t thinking of old and ruined friendships anymore, wasn’t even envious of them. No, for the first time in his life, he found himself feeling thankful that he’d stayed.

He raised his arms and pointed the gun towards where Flint was still walking, closer to him now, enough that if Silver pulled on the trigger, there’d probably be some brain splatters finding their way to him. Flint stopped dead in his tracks, uttered out a shaky laugh.

"What do you imagine you’re doing?"

"Scaring you," Silver said, smiling. He knew it probably looked wicked. At least it felt like it. "Is it working?"

Flint advanced towards him, his pace slow, tentative.  

He didn’t answer the question; simply found his place right by Silver’s side, away from the barrel of the gun.

"Fucking shoot already, if your grandpa taught you so well."

Silver took aim, the best way he remembered how, trying to will his hands to stop shaking. It was hard, knowing Flint was right there, watching him, and the first shot he took, he missed. The bullet barely grazed the side of the stump.

"Again."

Silver sighed; closed his eyes for a good second. When he opened them again, he took a deep breath, readjusted his stance. The trees felt like they were closing in on him to more time passed, and Flint was still right there, patient, watching. Waiting.

This time, when Silver pulled on the trigger, it was with certainty. He didn’t even flinch at the noise, and the tin-can went flying.

"Ah! Yes!" Flint yelled, sounding absolutely fucking delighted. Silver had never seen a smile so bright on him, and he imagined it was mirrored upon his own face. "Yes!"

When Flint kissed him then, all teeth and tongue, Silver wished for the taste of blood in his mouth. He held on to Flint’s collar and pulled him in strong, claiming every each of him, wanting to drink the very power out of him, feeling almost parched with it. He truly never felt more alive than when they clashed together like this, than when Flint’s thigh found its righteous place between his own, than when strong hands grabbed at the meat of his ass without any second-thought for mercy.

"James," he breathed, hands scratching at his back, digging underneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. "Fuck - James."

Flint smiled against his lips, pushed him against a tree. Out of breath, they both paused for a minute, before they found each other’s heat again, and it became certain neither of them could have stopped once more, not even for a second, not even for their lives.

Flint’s hands were rough in their actions when he pulled Silver’s pants down, erection bobbing free almost instantly, tearing a loud groan out of him. It was too hot, too fucking humid deep-down in the woods, for Silver to do anything but hold on and watch and try and remember to breathe. He watched as Flint took himself out of his pants and watched as he grabbed the both of them into the palm of one hand, his right hand; the same that had held the gun only but a few minutes ago.

"Yeah, that’s it, sweetie. _Ah_ – you’re so good. So good for me. So pretty."

Flint’s other hand found its way to Silver’s hair as he said the last words, grabbing a handful of it and pulling, until Silver’s neck was exposed as far as it’d go. His mouth attached to it instantly, sucking a bruise right above the crease where Silver’s neck met his shoulder.

Once he was satisfied with his work, he licked at it, mouth open and heavy-breathing against the skin as he talked.

"I’d do anything," Flint panted. "Anything for you. You… you and your pretty cock and your pretty lips… fuck, John…"

John laughed, but it quickly turned into a guttural moan when Flint sped up his rhythm, started fucking into his fist as well.

"Anything?" Images of Flint with the gun in his hand, Flint with _blood_ on his hands, flashed into Silver’s mind before he could help it. He closed his eyes and felt his stomach twist with arousal, or perhaps it was disgust, or shame. He didn’t know; wouldn’t care to know.

"Anything," Flint confirmed, and as if he’d been reading his mind, he said, a faint whisper, "Fuck – I’d kill for you, I would, I’d –"

Silver came right then, hot streaks bursting out of him again and again and again onto Flint’s fist and shirt and pants, until he was gone, utterly spent, blissful in a way he’d never been before.

"I’d fucking – I’d die for you," Flint whispered then as he closed his eyes shut, his orgasm following suit, so ravishing, so beautiful, so alluring.

Silver felt it from deep inside his bones.

 

"I asked for two eggs, sunny-side up!" Eleanor practically yelled, but it went right over Silver’s head. "What the fuck are you doing giving me scrambled?"

Silver shrugged.

"Sorry. Tell them it’ll be five minutes."

 _Nassau_ was busy today, which was certainly unusual, and stressed Eleanor to a point of no return. Silver could practically feel the anxiety bouncing off her, as _he_ was stuck in the tiny-ass kitchen, sweating probably more than half his weight, trying to make sense of all the orders. Surely, he could be allowed one or two mistakes. Surely someone else wanted fucking scrambled eggs.

"No," Eleanor said. Silver barely registered it until she went on, "Sorry can’t cut it. You’ve – I can’t keep you. You’ve been a fucking mess for more than three months, now. I told you."

Silver stared at her. He stared and stared until she gulped.

"I’m sorry. You can finish your shift, but – "

"Fuck you," he laughed, dropping the pot of gravy he had in his hand onto the counter – making a rightful mess – and untying his apron, letting it fall freely to the floor. "Fuck this."

He walked away, more than ready to bolt out of there, and she yelled after him, desperate, "He’s not good for you!"

Silver could hear the slight crack in her voice, could feel the fear in her tone, before he slammed the door shut being him.

Good.

 

He drove all the way to Flint’s place, would have knocked on the door until his knuckles bled if he hadn’t answered soon, but thankfully he did, opening the door wearing nothing but pants, looking more than confused at seeing him there, on his front porch, so early.  

"No work?"

Silver ignored the question, pushed past him and inside the house.

"We have to do it now," he announced, yet looked at Flint with a plead in his eyes. "Let’s rob the bitch of every penny she has and get the fuck out of this hell town."

Flint stared at him.

"What happened?"

Silver sighed, dug both hands deep inside his own hair and tugged until the burn started to soothe him.

"Eleanor fired me. Over fucking eggs. Over – over you."

Flint tried to get close to him, to rest a hand on his shoulder, but Silver instantly flinched away.

"Sorry, I’m just – I’m so pent up. I need – "

"Okay," Flint interrupted, searching into his eyes for a second before he settled into his answer, knowing exactly what he needed. "Okay. Let’s do it."

 

They each had two guns. One tucked inside their belts and one ready, in the palm of their hands. They knew they most likely wouldn’t need to use them; that if everything went according to plan, they wouldn’t have to. But it was necessary to have them; it felt better to have them.

Flint bought huge, black scarfs to wrap around their heads, one end draped over their face as a curtain to hide their features, revealing nothing but their eyes. With the black clothes to go along with it, the hungry glint in their gaze, the weapons (and empty bags, soon to be filled with money) in their hands, they looked nothing short of terrifying. This was something for the history books, Silver thought. He and Flint met so they’d be remembered. He knew it, had known it ever since he’d seen him walk down that street, and had felt drawn to him with a force so strong, it was impossible to describe. Like fire and oxygen, like the moon and the pull of the waves. Like life and death.

"Ready?" Flint asked, one hand already on the handle of his door.

They’d packed everything they owned in the car beforehand – clothes and money and packs of cigarettes. Silver had left a mess of his loft; Flint barely had anything to take from his own house ( _all the memories here are dead_ , he’d said. Silver hadn’t tried to understand it).

"Yeah, ready," Silver answered, voice surprisingly steady for the way his heart was threatening to burst out of his chest. "Only you."

Silver could see the smile in Flint’s eyes.

"Only you."

 

They got out of the car fast with their pistols at the ready and people screamed and moved out of the way as quickly as they could manage. Some woman took her crying child into her arms and backtracked until her back hit a wall, but Silver paid little attention to her after that; he followed Flint inside the restaurant, as he’d follow him anywhere else.

One person screamed after only taking a look at them, and Flint fired at the ceiling.

"Everybody down!" He yelled, but nobody moved. They all stared at him, as some cups and mugs fell to the floor in shock. "I said _down_!"

The almost animalistic growl in Flint’s voice did the trick. People hurried to the floor with their hands up high in the air, already crying and pleading for their lives like pathetic fucking children, some even handing their wallets over already. Silver moved quickly around the dining space he knew so well, opening the bag in his hands wide as people dropped everything valuable they owned inside it. He made sure to point his gun directly at each and every one of them, just in case they’d be stupid enough to try something. _Just fucking try me_ , he thought, almost hoping someone would dare. _I’ll kill you_.

Flint was at the counter, handling the cashier. It was Eleanor behind it, and she kept a stone-cold face as she opened the register, gave him the entirety of its contents. There was a glint in her eyes as well, and Silver knew it was her anger at feeling helpless, that she could barely even handle the thought on most days – and he felt like a king being the reason for it, then.

Flint was ready to leave, already turning around, but suddenly Silver remembered something, something that wasn’t part of the plan, but he pointed his gun towards Eleanor anyways, changed the tonality of his voice as best he could manage, when he asked, "There’s a fucking safe, isn’t there?"

Eleanor’s eyes widened.

"Wh – what?"

"There’s a safe! Under the counter!" He yelled, now. He knew for a fact a shit ton of money was stashed in there. "Open it! Give it!"

He didn’t need to look back at Flint to know he disapproved, but Eleanor promptly fell to her knees, and Silver looked over the counter to make sure she was doing everything right – which she was. He knew they didn’t have much time but he felt so fucking proud of himself when she came back up with many envelopes in her hands, couldn’t wait for Flint to give him all the praise for being so good, being so smart –

Eleanor, as she was about to hand in everything, frowned.

"Silver? Is that – "

A shot fired and Eleanor’s brains were ripped out of her. Some splattered across his face. She crumbled to the floor in a mess of blood and piss, a woman no more, and people’s screams around them were so loud, so high-pitched, Silver’s ears were ringing. A burned smell filled the air. He stood confused there for a second too long, wondering if it was he who pulled the trigger, without meaning to, somehow, until he distantly recognized Flint’s voice, yelling so loud it had to hurt his throat.

"Go! Let’s fucking go!"

It managed to snap him out of it – he quickly bolted for the door, holding on to his bag for dear life, runnging accross the pavement and jumping into the passenger seat head-on, as Flint was already roaring the engine to life, driving onto the road.

When Silver looked to his side then, up at the rearview mirror to see Flint's eyes, he saw something he'd failed to ever see in them before. 

He saw fear. 

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously hope this was entertaining for you guys! 
> 
> I've started writing the sequel to this! It's in Flint's point of view and I believe it'll be the last piece of the series. And it's absolutely fucking epic. So be looking forward to that i guess haha 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! <3


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